


I Will Go Through Every Stage of Grief to Get You Back

by Newbiemans2015



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newbiemans2015/pseuds/Newbiemans2015
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s grief, Hunk. He’s in denial. It’s the first stage of grief. If you try to push him out of it and onto the next stage before he’s ready, we could end up tearing Lance apart from the inside out,” Pidge warned. “Honestly, I think him denying it happened is going to be the kindest outlet for him than the alternatives.” </p>
<p>“Pidge, it’s not healthy. We can’t let him keep pretending that Keith is alright and is going to walk out of the hospital tomorrow and return to a normal routine,” Shiro softly responded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Go Through Every Stage of Grief to Get You Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moongalaxied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongalaxied/gifts).



> So this is the first birthday gift for @ralligay on Tumblr, who asked for Klance Angst and Morning kisses :D I got you covered, my friend, and on time too!

_“Keith. I need you to breathe.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“You can.”_

_But he couldn’t, could he?_

_Lance wondered if Keith could even see him anymore, behind all that agonizing pain that raged inside his irises. They seemed unable to focus, pupils dilated and looking past him._

_He watched as his chest shuddered and another breath hitched, his whole figure seemed to be held in an eternal spasm. One that Lance was unable to control, no matter how desperately he clung to his delicate frame, and was beginning to terrify him. Each movement made him wonder if it would be his last._

_At the corner of his pale lips, the teen watched as a trail of scarlet began to make its mark across his chin and onto the floor. But it was nothing compared to the red that stained Lance’s face and hands._

_“You’re stronger than this, we’ve been through this before,” He could hear himself saying, all of which was a lie. “You can.”_

_It hadn’t been this bad before._

 ~

And suddenly, Lance was awake, strangling himself in the grey duvet that didn’t cover the entirety of his exposed skin. It left half of his body sweaty and hot against the mattress and the other chilled in the running air condition.

The sound of humming electricity and a small fan filled the emptiness of the room; a blue glow illuminated the ceiling.

It was just a nightmare. Everything was fine.

Stretching his fingers lazily through the sheets, he sought the comforting warmth of his companion. Someone who was always aware when he was having a nightmare and would be waiting for him to wake up so he could instantly provide that rare silent comfort that only they could give.

But his fingers brushed up against nothing. They merely pushed the rest of the bedding aside and revealed that the space was empty.

_Right. He’s not here._

Lance pulled the duvet closer around him, tucking his knees into his chest as he stared at the part of the wall that was normally covered by a mass of bed hair and violet eyes. The pillow beside him hadn’t been touched in days, nor had the bed been occupied by anyone but him.

_4:37 a. m._

Pulling the abandoned pillow to him, Lance inhaled deeply as he tried to push his thoughts aside. Five more hours of sleep, he could manage that.

 

As the grey morning dawned, Lance padded down the tiny apartment’s hallway to the kitchen in an oversized blue hoodie.

Snatching the remote from the corner, he turned on the television and allowed the soft sounds of the news permeate through the air. Before long, a pot of coffee was on the way and his favorite creamer out.

Two mugs sat on the counter.

“ _Keith!_ ” He called out, with a roll of his eyes. “If you’re not up in five you’re going to be late! I made _coffee_.”

Perching on the edge of the couch, he nursed his headache with a few Tylenol pills and warmed his hands with the morning drink. The news droned on about some sort of scandal with a corrupt senator named Zarkon, but Lance paid little mind to it, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the apartment.

He watched the time on the clock move on until those precious five minutes were gone and he was heading back down the hall with the second mug and a tiny smile on his face.

“Hey, _sleepyhead_ , I get it. Going to work sucks, but unfortunately in this society its necessary-“Lance affectionately lectured.

But then his eyes rested on the empty bed and he realized what he had done.

“Right,” He mumbled, placing the mug down on the dresser. “You’re not here.”

Keith hadn’t been home in days. He was in the hospital.

Three years ago Keith had been diagnosed with an incredibly rare disease called Galra. Since he had grown up in the foster care system after a closed adoption, no one had any clue that he had come from a family that had genetically passed it down for years. By the time doctors had caught it, it had been too late.

Lance had been there through it all. The good days where nothing was wrong, and the bad days where Keith felt like curling in a ball and never moving.

Sometimes Keith suffered migraines from his eyes that were hyper aware and couldn’t focus on anything but somehow managed to see everything. Others left Keith moaning in pain from terrible tooth aches to which he often described feeling like a pair of fangs were growing in.

The worst days were when Keith struggled to breathe and his skin turned an eerie bluish-purple from lack of oxygen.

But then, four days ago, Keith’s body had started to convulse in the middle of the night and next thing Lance remembered was the ride to the E. R. in the back of an ambulance.

 ~

“When are we going to the hospital?” Lance begged to know, huddled under the black umbrella that Hunk carried.

A light misty rain fell from the heavens as they traveled through the busy streets of downtown. The golden hues from the light inside the coffee shop at the corner was their destination, but it was much to Lance’s chagrin.

Hunk stared at him from a long moment, letting the sound of the rain pattering down on the pavement to fill the air.

“We’ll go later, Lance. Right now, let’s just meet with Pidge and Shiro, okay?”

They had all been on edge ever since Keith had been admitted into the hospital, and it was driving Lance up a wall. It was as if they were watching him like a hawk. At every turn, they seemed to be standing in his way.

Stepping into the warm little café, Hunk directed Lance towards the counter to get everyone’s orders.

In the back corner, Pidge and Shiro greeted him with equally concerned frowns.

“Is he still…?” Pidge frowned; eyeing Lance as he impatiently tapped his foot while waiting in line.

“We can’t let him continue to do this to himself,” Hunk whispered, settling into his chair as he spoke. “It’s making this whole situation _worse_ and I didn’t even think that was possible. Ever since he came back to the hospital after his disappearance, when _it_ was announced, he’s been acting like it never happened.”

“It’s _grief_ , Hunk. He’s in denial. It’s the first stage of grief. If you try to push him out of it and onto the next stage before he’s ready, we could end up tearing Lance apart from the inside out,” Pidge warned. “Honestly, I think him denying it happened is going to be the kindest outlet for him than the alternatives.”

“Pidge, it’s not _healthy_. We can’t let him keep pretending that Keith is alright and is going to walk out of the hospital tomorrow and return to a normal routine,” Shiro softly responded. “We have to be there for him the same way he was there for us. When I came back from the International Space Station on a ship that crashed in the ocean, you helped me with my PTSD, this is no different.”

“This isn’t post-traumatic stress disorder Shiro, _Keith_ _died_.”

There was a crash, and all three looked up to see the widening eyes of Lance.

Their drinks lay scattered on the warm red carpet, the warm liquid of coffees and milks intermixing on the intricate carpet as Lance stood frozen.

“He’s not…how could you… _he’s not dead!”_

Stunned, the three remaining individuals watched as the rest of the shops customer’s looked over in a disturbed concern. As if sensing he was on the spot, Lance pivoted on his heel and abruptly left the café. The rain instantly soaked him as he stormed down the street back the way he came.

 ~

Lance had a broken wrist.

Lance had gotten a broken wrist from punching the wall above Keith’s side of the bed.

Lance had gotten a broken wrist from punching the wall above Keith’s side of the bed because Keith was _dead_.

And he was so _fucking miserable._

The pain medication that the doctor had given him wasn’t wearing off any time soon, and as he sat perched on the edge of his couch once more, he found that maybe it wasn’t the medication that was making him so numb.

Pidge, Hunk and Shiro won’t leave him alone. He’s too _unstable._ ‘Too explosive and too _violent_ ’ they had said to the nurse when they thought he couldn’t hear.

His throat burned, as if he was getting sick, but it was a result of his bloody screaming from only mere moments ago, and now he just felt so exhausted. Lance could feel his body shaking like a leaf in the wind, but it wasn’t with the same intensity it had been when he had left the coffee shop yesterday.

“ _I’ll do anything_ ,” He rasped looking at Hunk desperately. “ _Anything_ to get him back.”

Shiro pushed the glass of water over to him on the glass table, urging the younger to take it, but the gesture was ignored. Instead, Lance just pulled his hoodie tighter around his torso and buried his head between his knees.

“ _It should have been me instead.”_

The silence was unbearable.

“Lance,” Pidge finally muttered, reaching out and placing a hand on the other’s cheek to check his temperature.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

 ~

Lance ended up joining a Galra Research organization and dedicating a lot of spare time to helping experts find the cure that would forever be too late for the one person he wanted it for the most.

Occasionally, the whole group would run in a marathon together raising awareness for the disease that had taken on of their own away. The purple, pink and yellow ribbons pinned to their clothing as they wandered about the events. Often times they found many others who had the same haunted expression that they saw in the mirror every night.

If Lance was honest to himself, he would admit he hated it with every fiber of his being.

But he suffered nonetheless, because he couldn’t seem to find the motivation to do much else.

 ~

Eventually, Lance moved on. It was almost two years later.

He had the wall repaired. He got the blue prison of a cast removed from his hand. He rejoined the others at the coffee joint they loved so much with the odd barista named Coran and the twinkling neon sign outside the window reading Voltr n. (Since the ‘o’ had long burned out.)

Lance had found a point where he could finally say the pain was only a dull throb at the back of his mind, one that would never go away, but one that was okay.

The apartment hadn’t changed much, he hadn’t wanted to erase the memories, but it still had changed in subtle ways. So when Lance awoke on a chilly spring morning with little on his mind other than to drag himself into the kitchen to make some tea and stare lazily at the cartoons he had turned on, he didn’t think it would be much different than an average day.

The steam rose from the cup as he sighed. If there was one thing he hadn’t grown used to, it was the quiet mornings before Hunk or the others visited.

But, like every day, Lance tied up his sneakers and grabbed his coat as he planned to head out to yet another meeting with his college guidance counselor over the possibility of changing his major. Without paying much attention to what he was doing, he flung open the door and stepped out rummaging in his pockets to make sure he had his keys on him.

“You should really check to make sure you have everything _before_ leaving the house, you know.”

Silence.

The seconds ticked by, and Lance stood frozen on the steps, his mind raging in a million thoughts from disbelief to panic.

“Lance?” The voice repeated, a little more hesitantly.

Dropping his hands from his pockets, the taller teen slowly let his eyes drag up from the cement to the individual who had spoken.

The same, stupid knee high boots, same cropped jacket and those striking violet eyes. A figure Lance hadn’t seen in almost two years. _Two years_.

“Oh,” He finally quipped, staring at Keith. “That’s…odd.”

Immediately, a confused expression passed over Keith’s face, his eyebrows drawn and eyes reserved.

“Odd?” He repeated in confusion. “Lance-“

“I can’t believe after all these years; I still imagine you in that same stupid Kpop reject jacket and boot combo, and that _hair_.” Lance grumbled, taking another step down and frowning.

A hurt expression flashed over his face, much to Lance’s own confusion, but before he could comment it morphed into sadness.

“Lance…I’m not a hallucination. It’s me, I’m…I’m really here.”

The words washed over Lance, but served little recognition as to their meaning. Instead, he just nodded along with Keith, looking very much like he didn’t believe.

“Then you need to pay up your half for the hole in the bedroom wall _that_ was expensive. And you totally owe me _two_ birthday parties and presents, not to mention the fact that the bed has been empty for so long, it’s hard to sleep. Plus, it would be wonderful if you could come pet the damn cat more because Voltron won’t stop meowing in the back window and you always seemed to connect with him better and-“Lance’s voice choked as he stopped abruptly.

“Why am I even talking to you? You’re not really here, I’m just going to look crazy, _again_. I’m just making myself more miserable, and I’m tired of being _miserable_ all the time-“

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith spoke alarmed, stepping forward. “Lance, this is _real_ , I’m actually here. My birth father found me in the hospital and pulled me out to take me to a really prestigious facility that specializes in Galra. He didn’t know about you, I fought to get back-“

He paused when he saw his explanation wasn’t helping the situation, allowing the silence to fall between them once more.

Awkward stares from the people passing on the street were beginning to increase, but neither of them cared enough to take notice of how very surreal the situation was.

“You _died_ ,” Lance finally murmured.

“ _Lance,_ ” Keith repeated in devastation, his words beginning to fail him. He had never been good at words anyways.

Opening his arms hesitantly, he met Lance’s dark blue eyes in an invitation. Affection was often difficult for him, but after so long of wondering if Lance even missed him after two years. _Just come here, let me show you I’m real_.

Lance smashed into him, nearly knocking them over, pressing his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck. A loud sniff could be heard as his arms tightened around his torso, lifting Keith off his feet. It honestly hurt, but Keith welcomed every second of the bone crushing embrace.

He had been starved of Lance’s touch for far too long.

“ _You died_ ,” Lance shuddered. “ _You went where I couldn’t follow._ ”

It seemed to be the only thing that Lance could get past his lips, the words breathing against Keith’s neck.

Pulling back, the shorter teen threaded his fingers in Lance’s hair and looked him in the eye.

“I’m back now, and I don’t plan on going anywhere for a _long time_. I promise.”

A moment passed where they just stared at each other, finally realizing the weight and truth behind each other’s words.

Slowly, Keith let a small smile creep back on his face as he raised a delicate eyebrow.

“Now, what’s this about owing you presents? And why was there a hole punched in the wall…Lance! Lance get _back here,_ damn it. I just came back!”

Keith chased Lance down the street, maniacal laughter echoing as the taller sprinted away, his own chuckles mixing in a beautiful harmony.

 ~

Keith had new medication, as a test subject for a new treatment that had just been developed, but all Lance cared about was the fact that _it seemed to be working_. He didn’t drop everything anymore to rush to the shorter boy side to make sure he was breathing, and he didn’t seem to pull the bottle of Tylenol from the cupboard as much anymore.

Lance got full nights of sleep again, and when the insistent nightmares seemed to plague him even more than usual he could reach out once more and find the hand that was already waiting for him. Lacing their fingers together in a sign of comfort that he hadn’t seen in years.

And in the morning, Lance would pull him close as the sun started to peek through the shades and repeatedly kiss his face until he got that same grumpy morning face that would eventually be replaced with exasperated acceptance as he finally returned the affection.


End file.
